


we all say things we regret

by CHER_UBIC



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Smut, I AM SORRY, John is bucky's dad, M/M, Mob AU, Mob Boss Bucky Barnes, No SHIELD, in this fic - Freeform, no Hydra, there is an unnatural amount of 20s mob slang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHER_UBIC/pseuds/CHER_UBIC
Summary: When John Barnes died, it was the start of a new era.The era of the Winter Soldier.(I add tags as I add chapters)





	1. The Prologue, Actually

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW BUCKY CANT BE 22 IF HE WAS BORN IN 1917 JUST PRETEND FOR THIS FIC THAT HE WAS BORN IN 1908 KAY THANKs

 The year was 1930. 

 

 It was the beginning of an event that would be forever remembered in human history, two years before Franklin Roosevelt's election, eleven short years before the bombing of Pearl Harbour.

 

 It was also the year that John Barnes died and his 22 year old son James took his place in the mob world.

 

 James Barnes was an honourable gentleman by day, but a button man by night. Before he died, his father was one of the most well-known mob bosses in the city, going under a code name to protect his ex-wife and the child he left her with. He might not have wanted to be a father, but he would never let anything happen to them because of him. 

 

And now, he was dead. And it was James's turn to step in.

 

-

 

 They called him the Winter Soldier.

 

 Steve called him Bucky.

 

 Kids on the school yard and adults at his day job called him a queer.

 

 James likes 'Bucky' the best.

 

-

 

 Bucky had been in love with Steve since that day in primary school when they kissed by the monkey bars.

 

 Steve had gone beet red and said, "no one can know, Buck."

 

 Bucky had smiled, held his hand and said in return, "your secret is safe with me."

 

-

 

Steve knows what Bucky does when he isn't home.

 

 He can almost hear the gunshots from their small, shitty apartment. He'd asked him about it once, but all he got from him was, "if they know about you, ain't nothin' gonna protect you. They know I'm a queer, that's bad enough. 'Til I take my pa's spot, then we can see the light." Steve had kissed him, weak, shaky hands coming up to cup his face. He'd whispered an 'I love you' before he left, but Bucky had just smiled and climbed out the window.

 

And so he stayed. They needed the money, money for Steve's medicine and for their rent. Steve never thought less of Bucky for killing people, they were bad men. He knew without it, without the income from his assassinations, he would be dead. And Bucky probably would too.

 

 So, when Bucky came home that night with a scratch on his cheek and blood on his hands, Steve got the soap for him, sending him to shower with a kiss on the lips.

 

-

 

When Bucky's father died, it came as a shock to everyone. He wasn't murdered. He'd died of an illness. Polio. Steve had almost gotten polio a few years back, luckily he hadn't, but with his susceptibility to illness, it had been close.

 

Steve never left the house without a cloth tied around his nose and mouth, protecting him from airborne diseases or pathogens. 

 

 Bucky never left the house without a gun.


	2. Chapter 2

 It was a cold, rainy day in Brooklyn. It was supposed to be a simple exchange. The medication he needed to keep Steve alive for a couple of guns. He had enough guns to supply the whole world and then some, sparing a few for Steve’s life was nothing to him. The life of his lover meant more than any life in the entire world, including his own. 

 With a furrowed brow and a set jaw, Bucky had his men wheel the boxes into the warehouse by the docks. His gun strapped to his suspenders, covered by a simple jacket. Beige. Everything was beige- inconspicuous. Boring, as Steve had cheerfully supplied. Boring, he’d said, placing a bright blue hankerchief into his breast pocket. 

 “Boring keeps me alive,” Bucky had smiled, covered Steve’s hand with his own and kissed his knuckles, a brush of lips until the smaller man pulled him in for a real kiss. Steve’s hair was so blond, so bright, so soft under Bucky’s calloused fingers. 

 “It better,” the shorter man looked up through his lashes. “I’ll kill you if you die.” At that Bucky had laughed, head thrown back until Steve blushed and pulled him in for a kiss to shut him up.

 And now, he’s in the warehouse, surrounded by his armed men and looking at a group of dope peddlers. There were two cars on their end of the warehouse, where a couple of men were standing at the boot, unloading boxes. From what Bucky could see, they was heavy. Good. Steve needed a higher-than-average dose of medication.

 “So, s’a queer like you doin’ takin’ your pops’ spot?”

 At the sound of the voice, Bucky’s head whipped around. The man who spoke was taller than Bucky, broader, obviously more brawn than brain, body made for lifting heavy weights whereas his own was made for running. Dark hair, darker eyes and a beard for miles.  
  
Bucky, holding his arm out as the men he’d brought with him raised their guns, signaled them to lower them. “A queer like me, huh?” He asked, grabbing the taller man by the collar. With little effort, he brought the man down, slamming him shoulder-first into the concrete. “You got a beef with me, kid? What’s your deal?” He snarls, manhandling him to shove his face into the ground. The man sneers, Bucky’s mouth just about pressed against his ear.

 “He’s gonna rape me, you dumb cats,” he tried to say, the sound muffled by the harsh stone. The other man sighed, blowing his hair out of his face as he brought his arm up, smashing the ass’s face into the ground until he looked like an exploded, red pineapple. 

 He got up, wiped the blood on the other man’s jacket, threading his fingers into his suspenders. “Now,” he says to the room, “anybody else got a problem with me bein’ queer?” 

 No one spoke.

 “Good.”

-

 With the goods packed up and the trade going otherwise successful, Bucky drove back home with three of his men following behind. He thanked his men, men who had been loyal to his father and now to him, and they drove off in their own car. Bucky watched them until they were no longer in sight before hauling the box up the stairs to his and Steve’s apartment. 

 Steve was at school and would be for a while, at least until dark, so Bucky decided to go through the box. Symptom numbing, pain killers, treatments. . Everything they’d agreed on plus a pile o’ hay. He could forgive a little bit of lip for a good package. Especially since the man was dead. 

 Unloading the box, he started putting everything away in its place. Their apartment was small, shitty as almost every apartment in that time was. They could live somewhere else, somewhere better, but Steve insisted that they stay close to home and his school. A long time ago, before Bucky even knew his father was a part of the mob, Steve’s mother died. It was a horrible time for them both, as he felt like she was as much of his mother as his own was. 

 Bucky’s mom, Winnie, took him in as her own. They shared a room, and at times a bed. Steve had nightmares and got so cold, so feverish some days he needed that extra body heat. And Bucky was always there for him. And now, he was paying for Steve’s dream. 

 The man sat down on their bed, taking his hankerchief out of his pocket. He ran his thumb over the smooth fabric, remembering his lover’s face as he tucked it into his jacket. That bright smile and shining eyes. He always worried that Bucky might not come home, just as Bucky was always worried that Steve’s health might take a turn for the worse. He would do anything to keep Steve safe and healthy.

 He didn’t know how much time had gone by before the sound of the front door opening sounded through the room. Bucky’s hand instinctively went to his suspenders, but Steve soon came into sight, a defeated look on his face. Bucky stood up and dropped his gun on the bed before grabbing him by the biceps.

 “Hey, baby,” he smiled, Steve’s hands coming to the lapels of his jacket. The smaller man rested his head against Bucky’s chest, making him smile even wider. “Bad day?” Steve huffed. “You can’t even imagine.”

 “How are you feeling?”

 “I’m feelin’ like I have an art project to do.”

 “Oh?”

 “Yeah. A sort of. . Abstract thing, or something.”

 “You’ll crush it, Steve.”

 “Thanks, Buck. I hope so.”

 He smiled and leaned down, pressing his lips to Steve’s. The shorter man hummed into it, pressing his palms against Bucky’s chest and smiling as he pulled away. “I think I know just the thing you can do to take my mind off of this,” he purred, pushing the jacket off of Bucky’s shoulders. “Oh? And what is that?” Bucky smirked, bringing his own hands to begin unbuttoning Steve’s shirt.

 “You’ll see,” he pushed Bucky back, pushing his suspenders down his shoulders as he dropped onto the bed.

-

 A couple hours and a very sore ass later, Bucky lay awake, tucked up next to his sleeping lover. 

_ What a life,  _ he thinks.  _ What a life. _


End file.
